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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810599">Farewell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxurytea/pseuds/luxurytea'>luxurytea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:42:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23810599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxurytea/pseuds/luxurytea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A week after Mickey &amp; Ian's wedding, Ian finally conquers something he had been thinking about forever. Mentioning to Debbie at the wedding how he had missed Monica was the straw that broke the camels back. </p>
<p>Ian comes to terms with her death, finds peace in it and gives her the good news.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Monica Gallagher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Farewell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although it had been a couple of years since Monica’s death, there had still been a lingering sensation within Ian’s gut. A vacancy, a hole.  <i>I miss mom.</i> Three simple words that had been spoken to Debbie on the day of his wedding. He could remember how it felt in the days that he had spent with her. Remember when she told him to find someone who loved him for who he was, loved him for everything that came with him. There had always been this lingering fear. The one in which he would finally break down one too many times and it would drive Mickey away. Worrying about Mickey worrying about him. But despite it all, Mickey had done everything to show him that he was all in. To show him that just because he had this disease, it wouldn’t deter him from loving him in the ways he deserved. To support him when he was down and he did, he really did. </p>
<p>There wasn’t a day that went by that Mickey wasn’t just the slightest bit worried about him. Always watching from the corner of his eye to make sure that Ian was already. Making sure that he was taking his medications at the right time, eating.  </p>
<p>It’s been a week since the wedding. A week since the pair of them stood up in front of their friends and family to openly declare their love. To say ‘I do’ to their best friend. <i>In sickness and health.</i>  The words came from Mickey’s mouth so easily, as if he’d always been all in. He was. Even more so now. </p>
<p>Though Ian had been ecstatic since the wedding, on cloud nine, there had still remained a vacancy. Still remained a piece of him that felt as if he were walking with anchors tied to his feet. Mickey wasn’t stupid, he could see that clear as day.  He wasn’t quite ready to talk about, to delve into the words he wished he could say to his mother. Words that would only fall on empty air yet he thought about doing it anyways. </p>
<p>With his phone in hand, Mickey’s contact information found quickly, long and slender fingers tap against the touch screen. </p>
<p>[ sms -&gt; mick. ] gonna stop at the store before coming home, grab a few things. </p>
<p>[ sms -&gt; IAN ]  grab more beer man drank the last fuckin one </p>
<p>[ sms -&gt; mick. ] got it. love you. </p>
<p>[ sms -&gt; IAN ] love you 2.</p>
<p>The store wasn’t his first stop, the cemetery was. There was unfinished business. There were words left unspoken that needed to be said. There are things he needed to process in order to move forward in this chapter of his life. Phone shoved back into the front pocket of his jeans, car keys of a newly purchased vehicle retrieved from his jacket pocket and he was soon off on his way. The drive was silent. He didn’t dare touch the radio, mind racing with the things he wanted to say. The anger. The sadness and despair. The loss, the grief. It was there. It was always there. Perhaps this was one of the first few times that he was willing to push through it all, to finally try and put it behind him and move forward in this new chapter with Mickey. It’s what he deserved, was it not? A chance to breathe. A chance to start fresh without the burdens of a life and childhood that had been torn and damaged in so many ways. A chance to be more than the life that he was born into. A chance to prove to himself that he wasn’t his mother, that he wasn’t his father and that he was more than the diagnosis that he was given. He was always more. </p>
<p>Once he arrived, car ignition shut off. Heaviness weighs on his chest, suffocates him. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. With a shaky hand he opens the door, slamming it shut. Willing legs to carry him forward across the grass and through rows of headstones. Through rows of peoples with names, some of whom may have been forgotten. But he would never forget, would he? She would always be the woman who birthed him even if she never fully lived up to the role of mother. How troubling it was to both love and hate someone at the same time. A feeling that he never could quite understand, how could it be both? </p>
<p>There she was. Monica Gallagher. The grass had re-grown over the spots where she had been dug up when they had to retrieve the last bags of meth for that dealer that she had fucked over. He sits down on the ground, facing her headstone. It feels uncomfortable, it’s awkward. </p>
<p>With a sharp inhale, Ian begins to speak.  “I got married. Kinda wished that you could have been there to see it, you know?” a pause, idle fingers plucking pieces of grass out of the ground; tossing it to the side.   “I remember when you said something about finding someone who understands and you know, it took me a while to accept that Mickey cares.” For as much as he had tried to protect Mickey from himself, it simply wasn’t possible. Till death do they part. </p>
<p>He clears his throat again, a heavy sigh soon follows. “But I found that. I married my best friend last week.”  He hoped that she’d be proud. Hoped that she’d be happy for him and he’s sure that she would be but she had never been consistent in his life. The longest she had stayed in one place was in the casket buried six feet deep. Regardless, he didn’t want to harbour that anger anymore.  </p>
<p>“I forgive you. I mean, I don’t have much of a choice, right? You’re dead. What fucking good is it for me to keep...to keep holding on to all of this shit?” hand waved dramatically.  “I don’t know what to believe anymore but wherever you are...I hope it’s peaceful.”  He spoke even though his voice shook, hand outstretched to trace the letters of her name, engraved in her headstone. Bittersweet but perhaps there was a sense of closure there. Something that he never got while she was alive.  How strange that she had to die in order for him to find some sort of solace in her death. </p>
<p>Sitting in silence a moment longer, phone buzzing in pocket. <i>The fuck’s taking ya so long man?</i>  Mickey’s message made him laugh the smallest bit, brought a smile to his face as his hand rose; fist formed, rubbing the smallest of tears that had formed. There would be no more tears here today. Standing up, rubbing whatever grass and dirt had stuck to his jeans off of himself. With one final glance down at her grave, he smiled - small - but still something. Thinking about the man back at home that he now had the privilege of calling his husband. A man of whom he had lost so many times only to find each other, time and time again. As if the universe kept forcing them back. Two souls, intertwined forever. He was happy.   </p>
<p>“I’m going to be okay. I’m happy.”  words spoken, voice low. Turning on his heels, he began his walk back to the car with hands in pockets; fingers wrapped around car keys. </p>
<p>He never looked back. </p>
<p>Within the car, the key meets ignition and gear soon shifts into drive. On his way to grab a pack of beer but most importantly:   <b>Heading home to his husband.</b></p>
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